


La Belle Dame

by inlovewithnight



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/F, Manipulation, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt "Joan/Irene, spanking," at femslash_kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Belle Dame

"Darling, I'm not your enemy."

Joan barely held back from rolling her eyes. "You're not my friend, either."

"Who needs friends?" Irene sat down gracefully, perched on the edge of the chair, and crossed her legs neatly at the knee. Her skirt--dark green, leather, part of yet another pseudo-military ensemble complete with fetish boots and epaulets--rose an inch on her thighs.

"Did you skip that day of kindergarten?"

"No, I was there. And when it was repeated in Human Sociology 101." Irene smiled faintly. "I just found it all very boring. Not for me."

"You're very special, Irene. I get it."

"We're all special, aren't we, Miss Watson? All unique. One of a kind."

"I thought you thought that the rest of us not blessed with your intellect were all alike."

"As a crowd, yes. You can hardly expect anyone to pick one cow out of the herd when there are thousands and thousands walking by. But once you pull a few aside, get them one on one... differentiation can occur. You can select out the especially good, the especially bad." She tilted her head toward Joan. "The so average they're remarkable in their mediocrity."

"And you, of course, are the especially bad?"

Irene laughed softly. "Oh, Miss Watson. I suppose you would think so. I'm a bad, bad girl."

Joan shook her head. "Irene--"

"A shame to my sex."

"I don't really believe in that as a concept, but--"

"I should probably be punished." Irene stood, smoothed down her skirt, and raised an eyebrow at Joan. "Don't you think?"

"That's for a judge and jury to decide."

"Well, we don't have those here, so I suppose it's up to you."

"I don't--" Joan cut off as Irene bent forward over the chair. "Do you expect me to _spank_ you?"

"Well, how am I going to learn if you don't, darling?" Irene glanced back over her shoulder, blinking at the wisps of hair falling over her eyes. "Don't look so nervous, Miss Watson. I promise I won't bite."

"That's almost definitely a lie." Joan shook her head. "I'm not going to spank you, Irene."

"Are you afraid you'll hurt me? You won't. You couldn't hurt me if you tried." Irene bowed her head closer to the chair, arching her back. "Stop wasting my time, Watson."

Joan took a deep breath, trying to exhale her anger. "I don't believe in corporal punishment in general, but you might be the exception to the rule."

"I'm the exception to every rule." Irene rolled her hips slowly, flaunting the tautly-stretched leather. "Hurry up before I get bored."

Something snapped in Joan, a burst of white-hot anger, and before she could stop herself she raised her hand and slapped Irene across the ass. The impact against the leather stung sharply, but the pain didn't clear her mind at all.

Irene took a slow, deep breath. "Oh, I knew you had it in you."

"Stop talking." Joan hit her again, a solid smack with the flat of her hand that sent a shock up her arm all the way to the shoulder. "Just stop talking."

"That's better." Irene laughed, the sound breaking on a gasp as Joan spanked her again. "Very good. Let's see how long you can keep it up."

Joan knew that she shouldn't do this, she should stop, but the open gloating in Irene's voice, her refusal to _be quiet_ , went through her good intentions like a knife. She slapped her again, and again, some distant and clinical part of her brain counting the strikes until she got to ten and realized two things. One, that Irene had, finally, gone quiet.

And two, that Irene had one hand braced on the chair now, and the other up her skirt.

"Don't you dare stop." Irene's voice was tight and breathless, and sweat was forming on the back of her neck, running down into her hair. Joan licked her lips and hit her again, watching how Irene arched into the impact, letting it drive her forward onto her own fingers.

"Again," Irene gasped. "I'm not finished yet."

Joan shook the tension out of her arm and kept going, spanking Irene two, three, four more times before Irene's hips bucked and she let out a slow, ragged breath and swayed forward against the chair.

"I don't understand you," Joan said, taking a step back.

Irene shook her head and stood up, turning to face Joan. Her hair fell wildly around her face, more disheveled than Joan ever thought she would see it, like wisps of flame.

Irene laughed softly. "Good girls never do."

She took a slow step forward, then seemed to pounce, suddenly on her knees in front of Joan, looking up at her with cold, challenging eyes. "Of course, even good girls aren't perfect. They have needs."

Her fingers were hot against Joan's thighs, and Joan gasped, reaching out blindly for something to catch her balance and only able to find Irene's head. Her fingers curled into Irene's hair and Irene laughed again, icy and smug, and pushed Joan's skirt up to her waist.

"Wet for me," she said, her mouth stretching into a grin. "I knew you would be, Watson."

Joan tightened her fingers in Irene's hair in a reflex, the anger and confusion in her chest racing down to her hand. She didn't intend to push Irene down, but Irene moved anyway, pulling Joan's underwear aside and pressing her mouth to Joan's cunt.

She was rough, and fast, her tongue sliding against the slick flesh and her teeth grazing over Joan's clit, then her lips wrapping around it to let her suck hard enough that Joan's knees shook. "God," Joan gasped, pulling at Irene's hair again. "God, slow down, that's--"

Irene ignored her, turning her head for another angle and sucking hard again, then licking over the sensitized flesh until Joan bit down on her lip and shuddered, letting the orgasm race through her. It was too fast and weak to be satisfying, but still, Irene had undeniably had her way.

Irene breathed deeply against Joan and turned her head to the side, biting hard on her inner thigh. "I lied about not biting."

"Go to hell," Joan whispered.

"I don't believe in it, I'm afraid." Irene got to her feet, smoothing her skirt down and turning away without another look. "God, my hair is a wreck, isn't it?"

Joan tugged her clothes back into place with shaking hands, then pressed her fingers against the spot on her thigh that stung from Joan's teeth. That bruise would linger for days.


End file.
